First, advertising in The Daily Prophet and other newspapers will cost no less than 10 Galleons, a conservative estimate.
This price made Ron shake his head, and Weilan subconsciously shook his head as well.
“Second, we act as salespeople ourselves, going door-to-door to promote. But there are a total of 10 villages, conservatively estimated to have no less than 500 inhabitants, spread over approximately 8 square kilometers of land… “
“There are too many people, going door-to-door is too much trouble,” Hermione immediately rejected. “We still have classes to attend.”
“Third, this is what I believe to be the most feasible plan.”
Weilan paused and said:
“That is, to advertise on the bulletin board of each village. The bulletin boards in these villages all have sections specifically for Wizard announcements, which are invisible to Muggles.”
“But, ahem, bulletin boards are not for free advertising, of course. It’s much cheaper than newspaper ads, probably 2 to 3 Galleons will cover all the costs.”
Saying this, Weilan took out all the money from his pocket and placed it on Ron’s desk.
A total of 26 sickles and 22 knuts, which was a bit too little.
“I’ll figure out a way to raise the rest of the money.”
There are always some careless students who forget to buy stationery before the start of the school year. Therefore, before every summer holiday, Weilan would purchase a batch of stationery to sell at school after the new term began.
This year, he could consider selling them at a discount as soon as possible. If that didn't work, he could also dip into his savings for buying a house at Gringotts… although there wasn't much in there.
“I can contribute 1 Galleon from my pocket money.”
Hermione generously took out a Galleon from her money bag and placed it on Weilan's pile of silver and copper coins.
At this moment, Weilan suddenly felt Hermione glowing all over. The light was so dazzling that it almost made him unable to open his eyes.
“This is enough; I can haggle.”
After Weilan put away the coins with both surprise and joy, he solemnly took Hermione's hand:
“You know, Miss Granger, although Gryffindor praises Ginny’s beauty, in my heart, you are the undisputed flower of Gryffindor—”
Hermione’s face turned red and hot at a visible speed, like an egg yolk thrown into a frying pan.
“Don’t talk nonsense!”
Ron interrupted Weilan aggressively: “My sister Ginny is the undisputed flower of Gryffindor!”
“What are you two arguing about? What flower? Mom and I have made dinner—”
Ginny, who had been drawn into the commotion, called them for dinner from the doorway, looking confused.
The three of them almost simultaneously and tacitly ended their argument, responding to Ginny in unison:
“Okay, Ginny, we’re coming to eat right away!”
...
In the last few days of the summer holiday, Weilan assigned tasks to his detective agency members.
Hermione’s handwriting was neat, so she was responsible for writing the advertisements.
The three most expensive large villages, namely Hogsmeade, Upper Hogsmeade Village, and Lower Hogsmeade Village, were to be negotiated by Weilan in advance to keep the costs within an acceptable range.
At the same time, Weilan would help Ron get some Floo powder, otherwise running through 10 villages on foot would be too difficult.
Finally, the task of submitting the notices to the bulletin board administrators was given to Ron.
Nothing major happened during this period.
The only two minor things worth mentioning were an owl delivering an Invisibility Cloak and a Marauder's Map, and Weilan's arm wound completely healing—the fair skin was smooth and firm, leaving no trace.
Without intervention, a wound of this severity would take more than five days to fully heal from injury.
Now this process was halved. It just didn't reach the exaggerated point where the healing speed was visible to the naked eye.
Soon it was the day school started. In the pouring rain in the yard, Mr. Weasley helped the children load their luggage into the dark blue Ford car.
“Mr. Weasley, won’t you be reprimanded for borrowing a Muggle car from the Ministry of Magic for such a long time?”
Weilan held an umbrella, helping Hermione cram Crookshanks’ cage into the trunk.
Mr. Weasley shook his head with great confidence: “No.”
“The higher-ups haven’t been around for days, I don’t know what they’re up to, and the people in the office haven’t enjoyed such a relaxed and leisurely time in a long time. No mountains of paperwork, no endless meetings, no verbose leaders…”
Mr. Weasley deeply inhaled the damp air in the rain, as happy as a bird returning to freedom:
“Merlin’s pants, my hair has even grown thicker recently…”
Clang—
Weilan closed the trunk. In stark contrast to Mr. Weasley, there was no smile on his face.
No one would act so unusually without reason; something must be secretly brewing among the high-ranking officials of the Ministry of Magic.
The others had already climbed into the back seat of the car. Weilan closed his umbrella and sat in the passenger seat.
As the engine started, the car began to ascend. Weilan pressed his face against the car window, watching the raindrops hit the glass and then slide down in crooked lines.
The car was about to land at King’s Cross Station, and Weilan finally decided to remind Mr. Weasley:
“Mr. Weasley, if you ask me, you should pay more attention when you go to work recently. The Ministry of Magic has been very unusual lately…”
The wipers pushed away the water stains on the windshield, and the car slowly descended.
Mr. Weasley pondered:
“It is indeed unusual. Recently, document approvals have become faster, meeting times have become shorter, and tardiness and early departures can also be excused—”
“What kind of unusual is this?” George chuckled as he opened the car door to get his luggage. “Isn’t this normal?”
Mr. Weasley and Weilan fell silent simultaneously.
They were both speechless at George’s words.
Fortunately, Mr. Weasley really listened. When he handed Weilan his last suitcase, Mr. Weasley said in a brief whisper:
“I will keep an eye out.”
The heavy rain showed no sign of stopping. Weilan held the umbrella high, creating a rain-free space.
Ginny and Hermione squeezed on either side of Weilan. They shared one umbrella and slowly waded into the station.
“This rain is so heavy!”
When George and Fred entered King’s Cross Station, they were almost drenched like two red-feathered drowned chickens, yet they still tightly protected the suitcases in their hands.
“What’s in the suitcases? Why are you so precious about them?”
Ron followed behind them, wiping the rain from his face.
“Dr. Filibuster’s Wet-Start No-Heat Fireworks!”
Fred proudly showed off to his younger brother.
“That kind of stuff? Oh my goodness, you didn’t fill an entire suitcase with it, did you?”
George and Fred winked: “You know, dear brother, we want to open Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes, and that requires start-up capital.”
“So we have to work hard to make money this year…”
Hermione and Ginny pulled their luggage and bumped into the dividing wall between Platform 9 and Platform 10.
Weilan was behind them, and he happened to hear Ron’s conversation with his two older brothers.
“Good thing I changed careers this year,” he muttered to himself. “Otherwise, the Weasley twins would have become my competitors!”
After the two girls entered the platform, Weilan chose his moment, pushed his luggage, and walked straight into the dividing wall.
His vision suddenly opened up to a deep red steam engine, lying on the tracks, spewing thick smoke.
They boarded the train and, through the window, waved goodbye to Mr. Weasley who was seeing them off on the platform.
“Enjoy your Hogwarts school life this year—”
The train started, and his figure rapidly receded.
Mr. Weasley waved and smiled, saying: “Oh, you’ll have a very interesting year this year. Perhaps you’ll even see Bill and Charlie.”
“What interesting thing?” Fred shouted hurriedly, “Dad—”
“I can’t tell you,” Mr. Weasley replied before finally disappearing, “because I can’t spoil your surprise—”
It wasn’t until Mr. Weasley was out of sight that Ginny, confused, turned her head and asked her three brothers: “What surprise? What did Dad mean?”
“I don’t know.”
Several pairs of bewildered eyes looked at each other, questioning.
Weilan was faking it; he, of course, knew there would be the Triwizard Tournament this year.
But he had no reasonable source of information to use as an excuse, so he could only feign a bewildered look and blend in.
“Who cares! I think now is a good time to sell merchandise.”
George and Fred hummed a tune and left the compartment.
Weilan, Ron, and Hermione sat back in their own compartment.
Pigwidgeon was making a fuss in his cage, and Ron casually draped his least favorite maroon dress robes over it.
Muffled voices of discussion drifted from the adjacent compartment:
“Did you know? My dad and I once speculated that the Chamber of Secrets contained magic left behind by Gryffindor, and only the heir of Slytherin could open the Chamber, while only the heir of Gryffindor could wield the magic within the Chamber, and the Dark Lord was killed by the heir of Gryffindor!”
Such nonsensical speculation, of course, only earned a sneer from Weilan.
“They’re talking about how ‘Lord Voldemort’ died again.”
Hermione, accustomed to it, said: “Every year on the train, you can hear people discussing how he died.”
“But that great demon’s death was indeed very topical. I bet people will discuss his cause of death for hundreds of years.”
Ron got up and closed the compartment door, completely shutting out the nonsensical voices:
“Just imagine, a powerful, terrifying, murderous demon, at the peak of his power, suddenly had his head cut off and thrown into the Principal’s office at Hogwarts…”
“It’s truly baffling!” Weilan joked.
When Weilan first boarded the Hogwarts Express, he had already learned the full story of Lord Voldemort’s death from children from Wizard families.
It was said that it was Lord Voldemort’s most prosperous period, with large numbers of Death Eaters bowing at his feet. Muggles and Muggle-born Wizards were harvested in droves, like stubble in a field.
Aside from Dumbledore, no Wizard didn't tremble at the thought of him.
Yet it was during this darkest period that a provocative letter was delivered by owl to Lord Voldemort’s desk:
“Dear Tom Riddle, I hear you are the most powerful Wizard. However, rumors are often exaggerated, and I do not believe you can withstand the simplest spell I cast.
I wish to spar with you at Hogwarts on August 1st. In this duel, I will expose your lie of being Britain’s most powerful Wizard!”